


Paul Sevier Stopping Your Wedding

by in_chains_and_flesh_and_leather



Category: Midnight Special (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27132307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_chains_and_flesh_and_leather/pseuds/in_chains_and_flesh_and_leather
Summary: As you know by now, I love the idea of dating one of the boys, breaking up for whatever reason, then gearing up to marry someone else, but they swoop in and stop you.Now, it’s Paul’s turn.
Relationships: Paul Sevier/Reader, Paul Sevier/You
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

§ If he’s being honest with himself, Paul Sevier would admit that whenever you decided to leave your job and get married – to someone else and not him, if he may add – would be terrible timing.

§ But now it’s really, truly extra terrible.

§ You are one of the few women in the department, which is a loss just in general, but more importantly, and more personally, you are one of the rare humans there. People with real heart and wit and someone he connects with. So to lose that is bone chilling.

§ You had asked the people in charge to keep it a secret, just to avoid any chatter and distractions, and they were more than happy to. But now your wedding was in a week and you had to travel to your fiancé’s hometown and meet the family and be paraded around and finally tie the knot.

§ Pursuing a career was great, more than great, it was thrilling. But if you wanted to have any kind of emotional connection and start a family – safely, easily and without egg freezing and all that jazz, to be unthawed when you were 42 and have your uterus hooked up to a car a battery to kick start it or whatever they do, now was the time.

§ When your colleague bought a house, she asked to set you up with Noah, her real estate agent. He was lovely and quite busy himself, so you managed to keep a relationship alive for once. Suddenly, time had crept up on you and you were together long enough for him to propose and for it not to seem weird. It was true, you did the math and everything. A perfectly acceptable amount of time had elapsed. So you said yes. And then enough time had elapsed that the next step was the nuptials.

§ When he hears the news and you come to pick up some stuff before going on an extended leave, out of the blue, Paul summons you to an urgent meeting in his office.

 _So you’re just leaving?_ – he asks, standing awkwardly in the corner farthest from the door and from you.

 _Yes, Paular bear, I am_. – you joke.

His heart tightens painfully at one of your many nicknames. You had promised to find one he would like and you still hadn’t, a long list now in rotation. He considers telling you you can’t go, you made him that promise and you still haven’t succeeded. He feels stupid just for having the thought. _– But why? This is great job. What about the…_ \- he draws a blank. _– Um, benefits?_

 _Oh, the benefits?_ – you say dreamily, draping a hand over your forehead. - _Stop, you’re getting all romantic on me._

 _Well… this job…_ \- Paul starts, mouth painfully dry. - _… may not be as romantic as some other jobs. But… I think it has something to offer._

_Sure it does. I love it._

_Then why are you leaving?_ – he asks quickly, a bit of his frustration seeping out.

 _I want to go somewhere, Paul, where I can also be a woman._ – you decide on honesty. You’ve been working with him long enough to have seen many people come and go and have some wonderful highs and terrible lows. You assume he’ll understand. _\- With someone who makes me feel like a woman. Does that make sense to you?_ – you pause to ask and his face contorts in a way you can’t quite read. _\- I suppose it doesn’t…_

Paul resents that. What is he, a machine? Of course it makes sense. You just… should have said something. To him. Before. He would have liked that.

_I think I understand. But what I don’t get is why you need to leave. You can have whatever you want here. We have people on the team who are married and have kids and…_

_Their kids don’t even know them, if they’re lucky enough to have them_. – you wave him off. - _Most of them sit here with shriveled hearts ad uteruses, playing number games._ – you say more callously than you intend, knowing he wasn’t dating anyone and gathering from bits and pieces of your previous conversations at late hours of the night that he would dearly like to change that somehow.

He can’t address the intimacy stuff, he’s not prepared yet. But he can berate you for insulting other facets of his life, and yours – as much as you’d like to deny it right now. - _They’re not number games, they make the world go round. In actuality, they allow us to peer into the secret dance of the world. But I think you know that anyway and you’re just venting._

 _That is true_. – you admit. – _But it’s been too long since I did anything worthwhile here and it’s just time to take the next step._

Paul was waiting for just that. He launches into explaining the case he was put on now, this little kid, and the cult, and all these numbers and phrases, and mysterious circumstances…

_Well, you’ll figure out the numbers, you’re the best at that._

_Probably_. – he agrees, no false modesty. – _But now I need to interview all these people from the cult. And you know me. I am definitely_ not _the best at that. Not to feed into stereotypes, but I’d say that requires a woman’s touch; they are sensitive and fanatical, from what I’ve been told. You’ll deal with them much better than me._

_Well, there’s only one problem with that. I’m leaving tonight and I need to finish packing._

_But… but… Please, let me just talk to you a little bit more._ – he asks, in a panic. – _About this boy_. - he adds quickly, a nervous sweat spreading over his body.

Since you won’t be seeing him for a long time and he looks like he needs some comforting, you take him by the arm and squeeze him in support as you walk him down the hall.

 _I’m on my way to meet Noah for lunch. Walk with me, and you can tell me whatever you can fit into that time._ – you compromise.

Paul will take it, whatever he can get at this point. - _Is he as good as you say?_ – he asks, not able to waste potentially his last moments with you telling you about a case you showed no interest in. Not that discussing your future husband was any more pleasant.

 _Better_. – you smile.

 _Than what does he want with you?_ – Paul asks, smirking.

 _Oh, you got me, Pollinator. Monsieur Sevier, un. Moi, zéro point_. – you announce and he laughs, getting sad immediately after, thinking that this might be the last time he hears you tease him in French.

§ He tells you a bit more about Alton and it is weird and intriguing - you can’t lie - but you have let Noah down too many times already, missed dates and even family events because you were stuck at the office all night or you were told to get your shit and get on a chopper with Paul or another member of your team and work in a different state for a week with no notice. Enough of that.

§ You greet Noah politely, not wanting to tongue wrestle in front of your colleague, whom you introduce as Paul Sevier, your dauntless leader. He wants to say he is not lead operations analyst, but you cut in before he can. - _In spirit, if not yet in name_.

§ Noah is too nice not to offer Paul to join you for lunch, and if he’s honest, he’s interested in meeting him, having heard his name pop in many of your stories. Paul is too desperate not to accept, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

§ Over lunch, work and this new case are brought up and you make it no secret that Paul asked you to stay behind and work on it.

 _And if I had the talent for it, I probably would_. – you admit easily. – _But I’m not the best in our team, not by a long shot. All brilliant and that. That would be cool, a low level kind of superpower, like Paul has_. – you smile at him as you take a break and chew a mouthful. - _But I don’t. I’m just proficient and diligent enough to do my job adequately. And that’s more than enough to hold down any government job, anyone will tell you that._ – you joke, trying not to go over Noah’s head and bore him with the details of you work. - _You, you need to meet quotas and goals, me not so much. I can ride this guy’s coattails._

Paul shakes his head; even though you are sort of joking, he wants to emphasize what an important member of his team you are.

He doesn’t get the chance as Noah speaks. _-I dunno, that doesn’t sound bad. If I had that option, I don’t think I’d be leaving his side._ – he laughs, not knowing he’s killing Paul with his words and easy manner. And why shouldn’t he be delightful and a pleasure to be around? He’s a people person, good at his job, easy to like and has you.

You go back and forth a bit, you trying to excuse yourself, saying Paul can figure out the technical stuff, he insisting that these interviews were crucial, and he would bungle it.

 _Well, it sounds to me like you two really need each other to make this work._ – Noah concludes, always respectful of your job and the responsibility you often have.

Paul feels bad for trying to tear you away from him, but it’s not like he’s lying. This really is big. So he brings out the big guns. – _Listen, I’m really afraid that people are gonna get hurt. Or die. Innocent people._ – he tells you openly, knowing Noah was hanging on his every word.

 _Well, Jesus Christ, honey!_ \- Noah says, going pale from seeing real fear in Paul. – _How can we go and have a wedding and honeymoon with that hanging over our heads?_

 _Well, we could have gone easily if Paul here kept his trap shut_. – you throw down you napkin in frustration, turning to him and leaning in. - _What do you want me to do?_

 _Stay and help me do the interviews_. – he says seriously.

Noah clears his throat, making you both lean back. - _Obviously, I’d love it if this never happened and we just left tonight. But…_ – he turns to Paul – _…you just have to conduct a few interviews?_

 _That’s right_. – Paul looks at him hopefully, eagerly.

 _Well, we can push it back a day. My family will understand._ – Noah offers, like the angel he is and Paul could jump for joy.

 _You can’t tell them!_ – he warns, already taking it for granted you will stay now that Noah made his sacrifice.

 _Of course, none of the specifics_. – Noah pretends to lock his lips. _– I just mean, they understand her job can be unpredictable, I can just tell them she’s working._ – you don’t miss the sad tone that he always tries to hide, never telling you what his family _really_ says and how much they get on his case when you don’t show up to things.

§ You agree to go to one, 1, session to see what the hell this was all about. In return, you convince Paul to buy an apartment through Noah’s agency – the commission he will make would be his wedding present to you, and making amends for messing up your plans. Plus, you knew he was looking for another place to live anyway. Paul agrees because he would do anything at this point.

§ _So when is this apocalypse or whatever supposed to happen?_ – you ask as you hook up from the equipment, your overnight bag stuffed under the small desk you were working on.

 _Friday, March 6 th_. – Paul repeats one of the numbers he has been twisting and turning around in his head for a while.

 _Wonderful. I was gonna get married on the 7 th. Just my luck._ – you snort.

 _It’s perfect timing either way._ – Paul comforts. _\- If the apocalypse doesn’t happen, you’ll have just enough time to get there. And if it does, at least you got some nice gifts for your bridal shower, right?_

 _You have a unique perspective on things, Sevier_. – you roll your eyes. _– Also, I’ll be far away from here come the sixth. Remember, I’m only staying for the night._

§ The interviews go on and on, and you help as much as you can whenever people seem to clam up. Paul also relaxes as the day and evening wear on, interacting more humanistically with people.

§ One woman, who had experienced Alton’s abilities, describes her experiences not so much in terms of images, but feelings. When prompted by Paul to explain, she likens it to comfort, transfixed. Her expression and the emotion she conveys remind Paul of that party.

§ Right before you met Noah, you were supposed to be free for New Year’s. And yeah, everyone always has expectations that are too high for that one night, but it was nice to just be off. Suspecting something might come up, a coworker who knew his department would be working that night invited you over to their building. They had stashed plenty of alcohol over the last few weeks and even had some fireworks to light at midnight. You both politely accepted, thinking no fucking way.

But then, of course, you were called in to work and your plans were ruined. You, more than Paul, were in a bad mood, just wanting a tiny break. He snuck drinks into your office and declared a drinking game – people took shots whenever you grumbled. Everyone got a buzz going pretty quickly and whenever you simmered down and Paul felt it was time for more shots, he would remind you of something he knew -from always watching, always listening – annoyed you and you got them all pleasantly tipsy within two hours.

The coworker pinged you to come see the fireworks and Paul held your hand as you ran clumsily all the way to their building. You were stuck all the way in back, barely making it, out of breath and giggly from the booze.

Whether it was the chill in the air, or liquid courage, or just desire, he wrapped his arm around you and you leaned your head on his shoulder, watching the fireworks and listening to your coworkers count down to midnight. The few people who were dating or married to someone who was present found each other in the crowd, embracing and waiting to kiss. You smiled, laughing quietly and wistfully at the sight and felt Paul do the same. You looked at each other, laughing more for spotting the same thing and when midnight came and everyone cheered, you kissed him. Or he kissed you. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that it meant the world.

To him, it was a promise. From you to him, and from him to himself. This year. Do something about your feelings _this year_. But then he never got the chance. And he only had that memory to give him some whisper of comfort, when it didn’t cause terrible pain.

 _Paul?_ – you snap him out if after he zoned out for a while, prompting him to keep asking the woman questions.


	2. Chapter 2

§ You leave Paul when you are done for the day – for the night – still insisting you’ll be leaving in the morning with Noah, regardless of what you’ve seen and heard. Paul is hurt and furious.

§ That night, you talk Noah’s ear off about what an inconsiderate ass Paul is being, tempting you with this case, knowing you were getting married, but that this would haunt you as long as you live.

_Well, honey, when you put it that way, I can’t let you go_.

_What?_ – you stop, turning to him. You were just raging, you weren’t asking anything from him.

_I can’t let you go and spend your life with unresolved things in your past. We have enough time before the wedding. You can stay and see how the case develops._

_But…_

_No buts. Hearing you talk about him like that… I just don’t want you to ever talk about me in the same way. You’re gonna do what you need to do to have peace of mind. And you can join me when you’re ready._

§ Paul feels victorious when he sees you in the helicopter the next morning, flying out with him to the crash site. He tries to give a thumbs up to the guy flying, who is not impressed. Then he turns to you, looking for some reassurance, only getting a dirty look in return.

_What is it, why are you staring daggers at me?_ – he asks, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder as you struggle to pull out your bag.

_I hope you’re very happy. Noah is all freaked out now and won’t let me leave until this is resolved. Why do you need me now? What possible use can I be to you here?_ – you ask, caught between a rock and a hard place, knowing that, by the end of this, you would either let down Noah or yourself. And it was all Paul’s fault!

Paul takes off his glasses to rub his tired eyes. - _I just need somebody here_. – he admits, hoping to soften you up. _\- To know I’m not losing my mind._

_I’m not your emotional support dog, Paul!_ – you spit out as you lug your bag and trot to meet the agent striding towards you.

§ He explains, cryptically, that the boy somehow brought down an Air Force satellite.

_Was anyone hurt?_ – you gasp, before you can stop yourself.

_The country was hurt, ma’am_. – the guy scoffs.

§ Well, fuck you, too, you prick. Paul continues the conversation, correcting him on professional mumbo jumbo because he can _never_ stop himself, you roll your eyes to yourself. Apparently, the sole purpose of the satellite that crashed, causing the debris you were walking through, was to detect nuclear events.

§ Holy shit, Paul, what did you get me into?, you think as you trudge behind the two of them.

_Like it to not, your two are the new resident experts on Alton Meyer_. – he informs you, giving you few details of the rest of your day and what is expected of you.

§ You arrive to some dingy hotel, having to carry your stuff up two floors. You stop at the landing, out of breath, arm hurting.

_You should pick that up with your knees._ – Paul remarks as he breezes by you, seeing you bend at the waist.

_Fuck you_. – you laugh, like he knew you would and he closes his eyes at the sound as his hands fiddle with the door knob.

§ You come out of the shower to get the pants you forgot outside, finding him eating the rest of your cold food, sitting in a paper container.

_I was gonna finish that, give it here!_ – you demand, sitting on the floor between your two beds and picking up a plastic fork.

_I’ll buy you dinner, I’m hungry now_. – he replies, mouth full, sword fighting with your fork to scoop out the food, used to finishing your meals at the office.

You give up and toss the fork down sighing, feeling almost like it’s another day, another impromptu trip with Paul, almost normal.

_Are you still mad at me?_ – he asks, feeling himself lightly shiver from the scent of your body wash. It smells like happiness to him, it reminds him of the times he gets to spend with you outside the office, when you talk more than you work.

_No_. – you whine. – _I’m mad at my life. I’m mad that I still love all of this_. – you admit as you stand up, securing the towel around you and going to get dressed.

§ Later in the week, you are walking up and down the halls of an unknown institution, trying to stay awake - you had already given up on the numbers, you couldn’t come up with anything that felt like a breakthrough. You know you needed that moment of taking a step back, tilting your head and seeing things in a new light, but you were just too stuck and couldn’t get out of the groove you had made, trying to force the numbers to reveal something to you. You come back with more coffee and several oranges lined up on your forearm, distributing the cups and peeling an orange for yourself, filling the room with a citrusy smell.

§ Paul’s eyes are fixated on the board and you’re not sure if he even realizes he’s rolled over to you. You take a slice and put it between his teeth, thinking that he would probably die of scurvy if you didn’t do this to him occasionally. You refrain from the quip to avoid distracting him. Even if he can’t tell, you know that he is finally approaching a different solution and you have faith he will figure it out.

§ It’s almost like an orgasm in a way; it starts slowly, way out in the distance and washes over you in waves as you put all the pieces, that have teased and ravaged you, together. But also like an orgasm, it can easily be ruined and you try not to buzz nervously around him, your eyes darting across the room, hoping nobody suddenly talks or does something dumb. Most people are on their phones or asleep anyway, so you try, as quietly as you can, to take a deep breath and relax.

§ Sure enough, he’s got something, half explaining his reasoning and claiming he knows where they’re going.

§ He beams at you, bending down to be fed another slice of orange from your fingers, and you don’t know how his beautiful mind was arriving to these conclusions, but you wish you weren’t there witnessing it, making your heart melt.

§ _Paul, I think I’m out of my depth here._ – you whisper nervously as you’re walking down yet another strange hallway, this time in another state, summoned immediately to come see Alton. _\- I don’t even understand what_ you _know…_ – you continue, pleading silently for him to tell someone you are useless here and send you home. Instead, Paul takes your hand, intertwines your fingers together and squeezes it in support, feeling just as nervous and useless and needing you more than he can express.

§ You all file into the tiny room and you sit crammed next to Paul, who is still holding your hand, squeezing it in his lap. To see a child strapped into a scary, sterile while room like that as you observe him like an animal, a weapon, makes you tear up and try as hard as you can not to whimper and look unprofessional to these people who most definitely rank higher than you.

§ After a failed attempt to get him to talk, Alton announces he would only speak to Paul, the Lead operations analyst, and your heart leaps to your throat. Paul doesn’t react for a while, every head in the room turning to him and he finally snaps out of it, whispering that he only got the news of his appointment that morning. As if you would be upset that he didn’t tell you about it in a moment like this!

§ Paul is allowed to speak to him, but Alton insists they speak alone. Reluctantly, everyone is ordered to vacate the room and you stay behind, despite people looking at you pointedly not to fucking hold up the line. But you keep looking from the poor child to Paul, who only dares look at you out of the corner of his eye, being told to get the information they need.

§ You can’t stop yourself, walking briskly over as the last people leave, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek in support and he grabs your arms, locked around his neck, not wanting to let go. The agent unceremoniously grabs you and pushes you out of the room.

§ You are standing outside for what feels like moments when Paul grabs your hand with his free one, somehow behind you, holding Alton’s little hand in the other.

§ You look from the kid to him and whip around to see if you’re all about to get tackled or shot – weren’t you just looking at the feed from the room and weren’t both of them inside?

_Paul, what the fuck? –_ you ask, quickly clapping a hand over your mouth. – _Sorry, kid._

_We gotta go, please_. – Paul whispers, no time to explain, as if he could even he had all the time in the world. - _I need you_. – he’s figured out a phrase that works on you and is real comfortable throwing it around when he wants you to comply, you realize with annoyance.

§ You know in your gut there is no time to chastise him now, so you let him lead you out, all the while expecting a bullet to come slicing through your leg or shoulder.

§ It doesn’t happen.

§ It doesn’t happen as you step out.

§ It doesn’t happen as you steal a car.

§ It doesn’t happen as you go meet Alton’s guardians.

§ They take him away and even though you’ve never seen them before, you can tell all they want is what’s best for him.

§ Paul asks the ranger for handcuffs and if he would kindly punch him in the face, but the guy doesn’t and leaves.

§ He joins you by the car and motions for you to help him put the handcuffs on.

§ He suddenly remembers something. - _How about you punch me? I’m sure you would like to._

You balk at him and shake your head.

_I think it would really help our case if I were injured somehow._ – he says earnestly, trying to persuade you.

_And the fact that it’s a kink and it will give you a boner doesn’t factor into it at all?_ – you joke, trying to brush him off.

_No_. – he shrugs, not put off by your humor at all. – _It’s secondary. Tertiary even_.

Well, now you _really_ can’t him when he’s being so dorky and cute.

He still looks at you expectantly.

_Paul!_ – you argue with the look he’s giving you. – _I’ve never hit anyone in my life._

_Well, get a practice one in_. – he offers a cheek and closes his eyes. – _Oh, no, wait, take off my glasses first. Or no. Better leave them on._

_No!_

_Please, just try_. – he screws his face up in anticipation and you feel sick, but you take aim, close your eyes too and give him one of the lightest slaps you can imagine.

_It’s gonna have to be a lot worse than that_.

You remember something that will ruin his plan and proclaim it triumphantly. _– Oh! I can’t, I’ll hurt my hand and they’ll know I did it._

Paul opens his eyes and deflates. – _Yeah… Kick me then?_

_Stop it!_

_Listen, if you do it fast and hard, it’ll be over really quickly_. – he insists, again offering his face and bracing himself.

You lean back, almost lying down and try to choose a good angle to kick him with your thick soles. He peaks out for a split second and then closes his eyes even tighter, breathing in sharply in panic and holding his breath.

He waits for the kick, but instead he feels you wrap your arms around him and bury your head in shoulder. He can’t hug you back with his wrists in cuffs, but he leans his cheek on the top of your head and relaxes against the car – nothing else to do but wait.

§ After you see the sight, way out in the distance, of something that should be impossible, both of you are in shock for a while, Paul being speechless and motionless and you eventually break down, overcome by emotion.

§ You cry about everything, this thing that nobody will believe even if you’re crazy enough to tell them, this whole week and everything you felt compelled to do, Noah, Paul, your job, your life.

§ Paul tries to comfort you, but, again, he’s tied up – of his own volition, so you rest against him again. With the sunset, the warmth is slowly draining from the day, so the body heat feels good too. When you calm down a bit, you’re both exhausted and you lay your head on his shoulder.

§ Moments drag by and eventually a dreamy voice asks you. – _Do you remember that night…_

_I do, Paul_. - you stop him, feeling weepy again, knowing exactly what he’s talking about.

He pulls back, making you look up at him and tries to lean in to kiss you, but the handcuffs stop him, making him jerk to a halt halfway. He’s afraid he’s ruined it, ruined the moment, but you laugh and scoot closer, leaning over his lap and kiss him, slowly. He’s so out of his mind with relief, but also excitement, he barely allows himself to move, worried he might startle you, make you stop. You work him slowly, nuzzling him and barely brushing his lips with yours at first, before giving him a one-sided embrace, him finally responding and kissing you fiercely, all the more eager to drive you wild with his mouth since he can’t use his arms to hold you close.


End file.
